


I don't wanna waste my time (if I can't be by your side)

by sleeplessflower



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Dissociation, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Touch-Starved, anyway fern is sad and finn helps him ?, i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-10 13:56:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11693067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeplessflower/pseuds/sleeplessflower
Summary: Fern was slowly getting used to it. He’d continually crave the experiences he had memories of, but never personally got to experience for himself. Rain, a surprise, the thrill of fight, a kiss. All things Fern chased like a dog chased a car. He’d experienced some things within his quota, but many seemed far out of reach. Things like physical touch were far out of bounds.Fern's only just learning how to be him. It's strange.|| ATM this is put on hold ||





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> whats up ! im not dead !  
> but now im writing AT fanfiction!  
> i love fern so much and honestly relate to him so i projected some of my touch-starved gayness onto him.  
> the title is from i dont wanna waste my time by joji. it's a good listen.  
> this is un-beta'd

The day, once again, was beautiful.  
The sun was out, the perfect grass illuminated by its light, each individual blade mingling with the light’s yellow to form a stunning lime green. The clouds were spaced as if they had been placed that way by some large, deciding hand. They cast minimal shadow over the plains of endless green that lay before him. Fern lay on the grass, his eyes open, staring into the endless blue. His cells were soaking up the sun that was presented to him, casually photosynthesizing for his own benefit.

Words, pictures, and thoughts stirred within Fern’s grassy brain. His mind these days was never truly at rest, constantly hypothesising and worrying. He often let his mind wander, to infantile and insignificant things clouding his imagination and causing him to daydream. Fern felt like his mind really was made of grass clippings, some days; his concentration could drift away with the wind. At this moment, as he sat up, Fern’s mind collected to a simple point, an observation he might have made before; he couldn’t be bothered to remember.

Why does it never rain? It never storms, not as much as it should for the lush grass and beautiful streams that coursed through the land. The clouds ever so rarely collected, preferring to separate and stay that way, to let the sun reach every part of the land. Fern yearned for it to rain. He’d not yet seen rain first hand; not yet felt it on his face, nor mud between his toes. Sure, he’d felt mud before, but not freshly made from pelting rain. He yearned for that feeling, that elation, to feel the fun that Finn had talked about when he’d asked what rain was like. Fern loosely remembered the conversation.

_“Finn?”_

_“Yeah dude?”_

_“What’s rain like?”_

_A pause. “You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”_

_A sigh. “I’ve seen it – I saw it so many times when I was the sword – and I’ve seen it in my – our – your memories, but I’ve never felt it for myself.” A pause. “I remember what it feels like, but at the same time, I can’t recall the sensation, like I’ve never really felt it on our – my skin.”_

_“Oh.” A long silence. Finn was tapping his chin. “Well, it’s nice, if it’s not storming. It’s nice if it’s storming too, I guess.” A chuckle. “If there’s no lightning, me and Jake usually go out and take a little shower, y’know? Like, dance around and stuff, have a little fun.”_

_“And if it’s storming?”_

_“We stay inside. Can’t risk being struck by lightning, dude. But it’s nice; you get to sit by the fire and play video games, board games, just chat, y’know? Chill stuff.”_

_“Uh… sure.”_

_“Don’t worry, you’ll get to see what it’s like soon… eventually.”_

That was… a while ago. Fern still didn’t know what it was like to dance around in the rain or sit inside and ‘chill’. When first Finn had explained, Fern had been slightly confused. He knew what Finn meant, of course, but a storm was like being forced to chill. He couldn’t understand why Finn liked it so much.

But now, as the clear, temperate days moved on and on, building and building, Fern didn’t care if he’d be forced to chill, he wanted to see rain. It felt strange, obsessing over something like this until it happened, but Fern was slowly getting used to it. He’d continually crave the experiences he had memories of, but never personally got to experience for himself. Rain, a surprise, the thrill of fight, a kiss. All things Fern chased like a dog chased a car. Sure, he’d experienced some things within his quota, but many seemed far out of reach. Things like physical touch were far out of bounds; most people were put off, if not scared by him.

So was Finn, at first. He was virtually terrified. Now, however, he called Fern a brother, a ‘bro’. Jake still didn’t trust him as much, and, being Finn on the very inside, it made Fern ache. Pretty much all of his memories had Jake somewhere in them, and so his closest friend being scared and suspicious of him was a harsh blow.

Finn, was now Fern’s outlet for affection. In the past – for Finn – it’d been Jake, or his parents, or Princess Bubblegum, or Flame Princess. Now, whenever in his company, Fern waited for the short high-fives, or pats on the back, or even shorter hugs that were a rarity and a treasure. Sometimes, Fern would get a squoze, if he was having an expertly bad day. At first, it had been a means to get all that gummed up feeling out of his system; now it was a means of getting rid of the weird feeling he constantly had, the strange emotion that craved Finn’s touch. Finn didn’t see it as anything but brotherly help, but every time Fern participated, he felt that feeling build. It was frustrating, not only because he wasn’t sure how to properly talk to Finn about it, but also because he didn’t even know how to put it into words. It was something that tugged inside of him, and made his grassy interior flutter, like he’d fallen asleep and butterflies had taken his chest as a home.

Fern let his head lull to the side, admiring the view of the treehouse he could get from here. He could see it fully from this hill, in all its wooden glory. It sure was a place. Fern’s eyes darted to his right when he saw a dot, just far from the house, duck beneath his view. His mind bristled, and he rolled through who it might be. The dot was slowly getting closer, and Fern, not thinking, stood, preparing to fight. Excitement bubbled up within him, and he was too busy gushing over a sparring partner, all for himself, that he failed to react when the dot, now a person, pounced.

Blue clouded his vision and Fern went rigid, trying to register exactly who – or what – was on his face. He heard a laugh, not to dissimilar to his own, and his fear subsided – it was Finn. Fern tried not to laugh, tried not to give in to Finn’s contagious giggling and pushed his weight so Finn was propelled towards the ground. His human counterpart hit the grass with a soft thud, and by this point Fern had begun to chuckle softly.

“Hey,” Fern’s voice, although jovial, was still soft. “What the heck was that for?”

“I wanted to give you a little surprise, dude.” Finn began, dislodging himself from Fern’s tangled limbs. “And I came up to tell you lunch is ready – Jake made ramen.”

“Oh sick.” Fern replied, in a tone that led on he didn’t actually think it was that sick. His grassy skin tingled lightly, the places that Finn now wasn’t, felt like he was still there, as if a ghost of himself was still in the position he was in before.

“Hey buddy,” Finn’s tone was softer now, too. “You alright?” his face had also softened, something Fern wasn’t sure how to do voluntarily yet. But it made him feel safer.

“Yeah.” Fern rubbed his arm, trying not to look at Finn. When their eyes met, the butterflies kicked up. He didn’t want to vomit them out and spill his secrets to Finn. Even if they were pretty much the same person, Fern had his own secrets now, his own thoughts.

“Come on, man. You can tell me.” Finn had scooted closer, his hand scarily close to Fern’s. If only he weren’t such a coward, he could move his hand slightly closer and – “What’s up?”

“You know, the usual.” Fern played with the grass, threading his fingers through it. “Just trying to figure my junk out. Tryna- “ He gesticulated vaguely. “Tryna make shape of it, I guess.”

“Alright.” Finn’s hand was on Fern’s now, giving it a friendly pat. Fern’s hand warmed, and his mind prickled with alertness. “Just checkin’ in.” He paused, looking off into the horizon. “You will tell me if something’s up, though, right?” He wasn’t looking at Fern, and he appreciated that. He wouldn’t be able to deal with eye contact now, not while Finn’s fingers where threading between his. “’Cause I care about you dude, I do.” Finn’s voice was barely a whisper.

Fern kept the moment quiet appreciating the subtle touch. His mind stilled, and he and Finn sat for a moment, Finn’s hand blanketing Fern’s entwined like vines on a fence. This was a moment, Fern was sure he’d keep on himself at all times, to remind him of the beauty of a quiet moment.

“Lu- uh –Lunch.” Finn mumbled, his mind obviously not in the moment. “Lunch!” Finn pulled his hand away as he stood. “That’s why I came here, to tell you-“ he paused, watching Fern take the hand that had been covered by Finn’s and place it into his lap. Finn looked down at his own hand, and Fern could see his face getting red. Finn looked up. “- Lunch !”

Finn took off down the hill, Fern following behind. At the moment he was concentrating on keeping his footing, the quiet moment he’d just shared with his counterpart not that coming into full realisation. By the time that they had reached the house, they were both out of breath, puffing at the front door. Finn caught his breath, opening the door and moving into the house. Fern took a while longer to catch his breath, taking longer to climb the ladder into the lounge.

When Fern stepped into the lounge, his plantile nostrils were flooded with calming smells. Spices and cooking – the subtle scent of Oolong made him smile. Jake was sitting at the table, tapping it again and again.

“It’s about time!” Jake tapped his wrist like he was looking at a watch, and Fern observed as a smile began to form at the corners of Finn’s lips. “Where were you guys? The ramen’s getting cold!”

“It wasn’t that long, Jake!” Finn protested, sitting down in front of a bowl of ramen. He tipped the bowl up to his face and immediately began slurping.

Fern took a moment, forgetting where he was, _who_ he was before being jerked back to reality and sitting down. It was if a wash of calm had overtaken him, and he was simply an overlooker to this peaceful lunch. He looked down at his ramen and then looked at Finn. He mimicked his actions, taking the bowl and tipping it to his face. The ramen tasted better than any other food or sunlight Fern had tasted. The spices mingled together perfectly, the noodles were well-made, and the meat was just on the right side of rare. Needless to say, it was good.

In unison, Finn and Fern hummed in agreement. Their eyes met – only for a moment – and they nodded.

“S’good.” Finn slurped.

“Good.” Fern parroted.

Jake smiled, looking rather smug with himself. He gulped down the rest of his broth and put his paws on the table.

“If it’s good, I hope y’all are ready for dessert!” Finn whooped, and Fern again, parroted. His mind rather seemed to be running. On auto-pilot at the moment. His gaze was in Finn’s general direction, yet he’d rather not lock it on the human boy.

The small moments he and Finn shared never happened around Jake. Fern supposed that they had to be alone, to be in peacefulness with each other – at times he supposed it was because Finn was embarrassed about it. Fern didn’t mind, mostly because he wasn’t sure of what their moments were, let alone why he would be embarrassed about it. The only thing he really knew was that both of them needed it.

In little time – in Fern’s perception – they had finished their meals. Fern had parroted Finn as his mind wandered, mimicking his movements and speech. He could tell Jake was a little weirded out, and it made Fern flush a little, and look over at Finn. He seemed to have not noticed and was still going about his ministrations. Fern and Jake made short eye contact, and Fern had the beginnings of an apology on his lips when Finn interrupted him.

“Fern,” Finn’s hand clapped his counterpart’s shoulder. “wanna go finishing?” He paused, trying to read the expression in Fern’s grassy eyes. “Jake’s gonna go visit lady, and I don’t wanna fish alone.”

“Yeah, let’s go.” Fern knew he sucked at fishing, but he also didn’t want to be left alone.

Finn grabbed the fishing rods and his bag, stuffing a few things into it. He waved goodbye to Jake, and Fern did the same thing.


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fishing. a change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ughguhg this was supposed to go up earlier and also go a slightly different way but word crashed without auto-saving and i lost words !  
> anyway i wanted to kinda stave-off on the fern self image stuff because i dont want to make him too much of a self hate boy.  
> i was think first of four chapters, and then decided that this is going to (hopefully) be longer than that. im also going to have to update the tags since next chapter is gonna have pb oops

The pond in which they fished was the same as they always fished in. Fern distantly wondered if it was ever going to run out of fish. They didn’t fish often, but it wasn’t a very large pond.

“Are there ever going to be no fish here?” Fern asked, sitting by the pond and wedging his fishing rod in between two rocks.

“Uh…” Finn thought on it, and Fern could vaguely see it.  “I don’t know man. That’s not for us to worry about, I guess.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Fern parroted, watching the ripples in the pond. He could feel his mind move with the ripples in the water. The way they drifted away, slowly moving back into the rest of the pond. He watched the water move, slowly, sluggishly. It didn’t need to be anywhere, because it was already everywhere. It wasn’t in any rush. Fern yearned for that. He pulled his knees up, watching the water. Watching the water.

His attention turned to Finn for a moment. He watched his counterpart’s concentration, his soft focus on the water, on his fishing rod. His face was lightly flushed, – sunburned maybe? – his cheeks a peachy ruddy. His hands tapped on the rod, keeping it steady. Fern looked at himself, at his own hands. They were much like Finn’s. Fern’s however, were grassy, the thick, woven fibres making his flesh a rather unpleasant texture. Watching the water.

He thought of how Finn’s hand had felt, on top of his, fingers threaded through. His hands were rough and calloused, showing of a good, practised fighter. They weren’t slight, Fern thought as his eyes stayed on Finn’s hands, but they weren’t stocky either. They were jouster’s hands. Who had said that to him – them – Finn? Fern couldn’t properly recall if it was Jake or his – Finn’s mom. Watching the water.

He thought of how Finn dealt with relationships, with Princess Bubblegum, with Flame Princess, Marceline. He thought of the way Finn talked about his feelings, and the way he always seemed so open. Like his life was a book – not always open, sometimes on the shelf, untouched for a while, but every now and again someone would open that book, turn through his pages, and Finn would let them. It felt as if Fern’s book had a lock on it, and all the pages were glued together. Like no-one would be able to open his book – not even himself – without tearing the pages and damaging the spine.  
Watching the water.

Fern couldn’t suppose why he was so infatuated with Finn’s existence. He couldn’t think of why the human boy fascinated him _so much more_ than any other. He’d taken hours, days even to think of why, every time Fern thought of safety, thought of a friend, that Finn came to mind. It troubled him.

“I think I got something!”

Of course, Fern was aware of dating, and kissing, and vaguely aware of sexuality. He knew _of_ those things, he knew _about_ them, but his mind still chugged uncomfortably when he tried to think of them, the logic behind them. He remembers, recalls what it felt like to have his – theirs – Finn’s – heart broken by PB, and to taste the burning chaste kiss of FP, he knew the rush of being Marceline’s henchman, and the way it made his – theirs – Finn’s – face flush, flooding with heat for some unspeakable reason.

“Dude, it’s so strong!”

But Fern didn’t – personally – feel that way about any of them. He knew that when Finn saw PB, or FP, or Marceline, or any other beautiful princess, his heart throbbed at least a little, with something – _attraction._ Fern never felt that. He knew the princesses s were gorgeous, all in their own way, beautiful crowns and flowing hair, but he’d never felt that pang, that little heartbeat when they talked to him. From what he could remember – from Finn’s memories – of how it felt, he’d never really had that with anyone.

“Come on, help me out, bro!”

There was one time that Fern cam remember. It wasn’t long ago, but Fern’s mind catalogued it in such a way that it felt like years. It was an afternoon – probably Sunday – and Finn and Fern were sitting on the top of the treehouse, watching the sun set. Fern was listening to Finn talk about his battle with a scarecrow that had come to life and started smashing gourds. Fern had looked over, and seen Finn’s face, illuminated in oranges and pinks by the setting sun. He had an excited expression, his hands moving as he described his parries and jousts at the scarecrow. At that moment, Fern’s heart had throbbed, just a little, as Finn’s eyelashes fluttered as he blinked. Fern wouldn’t forget that moment.

“Fern? Dude! Come on, man!” Fern snapped out of his daydream, looking over at Finn where he was struggling with his fishing rod. He was pulling back, his teeth clenched, eyes squeezed shut. His arms were trembling with the force he had to pull against. Fern moved forward, already wrapping his hands around Finn’s wrists. He moved further up, until both their hands were gripping the rod. Fern pulled, trying to keep grip on the rod and concentrate on pulling at back, instead of concentrating how much he was touching someone else.

He could feel Finn’s breath, puffing onto Fern’s arms. He could feel Finn’s back curve as he exerted force, the muscles trembling. He could see it in Finn’s face – it was practically beet red, his whole face screwed up as he pulled. Fern was putting less effort in, his grassy muscles stronger, better. He pulled, tuning his heaves with Finn. The rod was pulled further towards them, curving more and more as the fish on the other end pulled.

“Keep going!” Finn yelled, pushing himself into Fern as he stepped further back. Fern prickled up as Finn’s back lined up with his chest, warmth spreading through him. Fern gave one last pull, before the line snapped.

Finn and Fern went toppling backwards, the rod dropping from their hands. It was quite an aerobatics act to not completely crush one another, Finn flailing at the last second, turning so the boys caught each other. Fern felt their hands brush, momentarily, and he could already feel the flush creeping up his neck. They tangled for a moment longer, until Fern was on the ground, Finn atop him. Fern could feel the heat of a blush across his face now, Finns's eyes meeting his. Finn rolled over to lay next to the grass boy. Fern listened to Finn’s breathing, the harsh heave, fading into soft, controlled breaths. He could faintly smell the sweat Finn had broken due to exertion. Their bodies were inches apart.

“Guess he got away.” Fern said, as soon as the moment was perfectly quiet. Finn hummed in response.

“You should watch your rod, man.” Finn said, picking his head up to look at the other rod, wedged between the rocks, not so much as moving. Fern hummed in response, a parrot to Finn.

“Okay.” Fern shifted, so he was more comfortable. “I will. Eventually.” He settled in, letting the grass meld with himself, bring him into a different place, help him feel calm. “Jus’ gotta chill for a while.”

He opened his eyes fully, looking past the trees and into the open, blue sky. When fern really looked up, really stared into the blue, he could look into the great expanse and imagine, think about how small he really was. How small everyone really was. Compared to Ooo, compared to the sky, he was but a little blip. A little grassy spot among several other, larger grassy spots, on a larger grassy spot, on a giant… whatever Ooo was on. A globe, or disc or something. A cold feeling enveloped Fern as a cloud passed overhead, and he felt his chest clench, something stinging behind his eyes, like he’d stared into the sun.

He closed his eyes fully, letting darkness overtake him. He thought of when he slept, what he dreamt of; when he opened his eyes and looked at the starry sky. How big he felt then, in comparison to the stars, so small, yet shining so bright. He thought of his time inside of the cocoon in the sword, all that tapping, all that solidarity. It made him panic for a moment, but after a second of contemplation, it calmed him. He knew that weird grass octopus was looking after him, making sure he didn’t get hurt. He knew it was for their combined benefit, and they never intended to hurt one another.

Opening his eyes, Fern sat up and looked at ­­the fishing rod where it was wedged between the rocks. He stood slowly, walking over to it.

 Nothing had taken his bait, his worm still wriggling around in the water, creating small ripples on the surface. Fern looked into the water, into his reflection, and hummed. Even though he was aware he wasn’t Finn, he still felt it, especially when he didn’t look at himself for a while. Looking at his own reflection made him cringe. He looked so monstrous – a Finn made of ragged clippings of grass. Green and gangly. There were things about him that were different from Finn, too. Not just the grass. His hat was different, his clothes, his feet. It was like he was weirdly off-brand. Fern considered himself for a moment before taking off his hat, letting his hair spill onto his shoulders. He ran his hands through it, feeling grass catch on grass. It was weird.

He closed his eyes, taking himself back to the cocoon for a time before opening his eyes and looking back at his reflection. His hair shone in the light, the flowers in it practically glittering. Fern stared at it, for a long moment, before plucking a flower from his hair. It fell into the pond, floating across the surface. Fern plucked another and let it drop. And another, and another, and another. He continued, slowly plucking, until his hair was free of its adornments. He started at himself, his hand lightly brushing his hair. That was his decision.

Drawing his grass sword, Fern took a section of hair in his hand, slowly sawing it off. The hair fell as he dropped it, floating to the ground and into the pond. He looked at his reflection, taking another section of hair into his hand. He cut it slightly faster this time, eyes trained on his reflection. Moving around to grasp hair at the back of his head, he felt around for the right length, chopping it as fast as he could. He moved on, repeating until his hair was littered around him, floating in the stream alongside his bait. Fern looked at his reflection on the water. He ran a hand through his hair. A smile twitched the corners of his lips. He replaced his hat.

Turning, Fern looked at Finn. His eyes were closed, chest moving slowly. He was asleep. Fern looked at Finn, at his docile expression, and felt his grassy heart throb. He tilted his head up to the sky and looked at where the sun was on the horizon. He turned, taking his rod and placing it next to where Finn had dropped his. Fern over to Finn, crouching down to tap his face.

“Come on, dude.” He said, voice soft. “It’s time to head back. C’mon buddy.” He tapped along Finn’s face and onto his shoulder, a smile unfurling onto his lips as Finn began to laugh.

“Okay dude, I get it, okay.” He chuckled, sitting up and brushing the grass sticking to his arms.

Fern stood, going to pick up the fishing rods, tucking them under his arm. When he looked beside him, Finn was there, smiling. Fern nodded, and began walking back.

The wind had picked up somewhat, and was blowing petals and leaves along, adding a chill to the slowly setting sun. He watched his footing, holding conversation with Finn, laughing and joking, trying to fight the clenching feeling in his chest he got every time he looked over and Finn smiled. He tried to ignore the pang in his gut, the emptiness in his purpose, the want in his heart.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im gay


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PB is in this chapter? im not suree how to summarise it wow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so , this took a lil longer than i wanted it to, but i had to go on a hemlock grove bender because depression i guess  
> anyway i just came back from comic-con and saw a bunch of at cosplayers and also i watched the new eps and uhhh the huntress wizard ep was so bi ! also finn kissing hw and then seeing fern i was like aaaa but also dude rhats sum issues!  
> anyway i assumed they have phones? i just wanted to have them having a soft conversation. obviously on the other end finn was blushing like h*ck

The candy kingdom always smelled like nutmeg, tapioca and marzipan. It was slightly sticky to the touch (not enough to be a problem) and as bright as a child's colouring book. Not everyone was as cheery as the appearance first made it seem, but the people of the candy kingdom acted as if there was no-one and nothing to worry about.

“ _Just try not to kill anyone_.” Finn had said, hesitantly as he’d waved Fern off.

“ _Yeah, think Finn!”_ Jake had added, and those words had tugged at Fern in an uncomfortable way, that’d left him slightly confused. Think Finn.

He’d met Bonabelle at the entrance to the castle, where she’d welcomed him with a hug.

“It is _so_ nice to finally meet you Fern.” She’d started, and then added, after a pause; “Wuh- Well it’s nice to see you again, in calmer circumstances.” Fern had nodded.

“It’s nice to… finally meet you too, Bonabelle.” He added, making sure he was being polite.

“Please, call me Bonnie.” She waved him off, and then paused, remembering why she had called him here. “I hope you don’t mind me calling you in for… this.”

“To experiment on me.” There was no malice in Fern’s tone, yet Bonnie still seemed a little struck.

“Yeah.” She put her hand out in front of her, motioning for them to walk. “Not just that, though.” She looked down. “I’d love to be friend with you too, ya’know. I’m not all science.”

Fern smiled at that. “I’d like to be friends with you too.” He paused. “I mean, more than I can remember us being anyway.”

They made it to the castle easily, Bonnie taking back roads and alleys to avoid most of the candy people. She explained – without prompt – that it’d take too long if she stopped to help everyone who asked. She felt bad, but she had plans for today, she said.

Fern could remember being inside the castle – _Finn_ could remember being inside the castle. It had so many more smells and colours than he could remember from Finn’s memory. Whether it was because he had spent so long mulling over what it looked like in his free time or because Finn’s memory was warped, Fern couldn’t decide.

They were greeted by Peppermint Butler, who Bonnie quickly waved off. She led Fern down a hall and into a lower level – into her lab.

“I can always get some food sent down here, if you want.” She continued their conversation that had led on from the entrance to the Candy Kingdom and into this room. Bonnie moved over to a table, and Fern followed, looking at a large sunlamp.

“Nah, I’m good as long as I have something to photosynthesize from.” He turned on the lamp and stuck his hand under it, feeling his grassy skin soak up the heat and the light.

“Oh! Interesting.” Bonnie scrambled for a pen and some paper, beginning to scratch things down. “I suppose it would make sense considering… would you mind if I took a cell sample?” she asked, and Fern shook his head.

“Not at all.” He plucked a blade of grass from his arm, handing it to Bonnie, who placed it into a petri dish.

Fern watched diligently as Bonabelle worked, answering any questions she asked. Like he remembered -- _recalled,_ from being Finn -- she was polite and proper, if not lightly blunt. Her replies were sometimes a little harsh, her questions bordering on too personal. She was out of practise with proper social interaction, and Fern supposed he related, on some level.

  
A few hours had passed, with Fern lounging on a armchair under the sunlamp, playing with candy crystals. His mind had almost drifted from his body, hardly responding to the questions that Bonabelle posed. He had let his consciousness float, staring into the reflections in the crystallized sugar. Slowly. He thought, if he unfocused his eyes enough, his reflection almost looked like Finn.

“Fern?” Bonnie spoke up, tapping her pen against her lip. “There’s one last thing I wanted to ask?”

Finn’s head shot up. “Shoot.”

“Do you…” She stopped herself short. “Oh, I’m not sure how to phrase this…” she looked down at science, watching as he scuffed around in his cage. “Do you like anyone?”

“Sure, I like lots of people.” Fern responded.

“You know what I mean, silly.” Bonnie threw back. Fern paused.

“Yeah, uh.” He scratched the back of this neck. “Maybe.”

“Do you know how to -- I mean, I’m sure Finn knows how to -- but do you have any advice? I mean on… liking someone?” Fern was hardly paying attention to Bonnie’s last words. He was stiff, his heart -- or whatever was in there -- was throbbing like a smashed thumb, his face heating.   
Was that all she saw him as? Just another Finn? Just a repository of his memories?

“Uh.” Fern looked down, fiddling with the crystal in his hands. “I don’t really have any advice. Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Bonabelle dismissed him with the wave of a hand. “Was worth a try anyway.”

“Who- what d’you need advice for anyways?” Fern looked back into the crystal. Finn. he saw Finn.

“Oh, uh.” Bonnie played with her pen. “A friend.”

Fern didn’t reply.

He nodded, placing the crystal back where he got it, leaning back in the chair he was in. he closed his eyes, focusing on the warmth and the absorption of energy. Peace. Quiet. Calm.

The room seemed to get impossibly quiet; no scratching of a pen, no squeaking of a rat, no humming of a quiet tune. It was as if all the sound had been sucked from Ooo. Fern reveled in it, taking his time to bask in the only remaining thing; the warmth.

 

However, that didn’t last long.

Fern’s phone chimed out and he rose with a start, fishing around in his pockets until he found it.

_Finn._

Fern answered.

“Yell-o?”

“Fern. Hey.” Finn sounded tired, like he’s just woken from a nap. His voice was still clogged with sleep, and his words were slow and soft.

“What’s - what d’ya need, dude?” Finn responded just as soft, as if by instinct.

Finn made a popping noise. “Just calling to see how done you are.”

“Oh. I-” Fern stopped himself, and he could hear rustling on the other end. Fern, for a second, imagined Finn on the other phone, sitting up in bed, or on the sofa, running his hand through his hair. It made Fern still. “I don’t know how done we are.”

“Okay.” Finn affirmed. “It’s cool if you’re not, just call me when you are, so Jake can come pick you up.”

“I can walk.” Fern’s voice was painfully flat.

“Uh - sure.” Finn continued, and Fern heard more rustling -- was he getting up? “I just - want you to be safe man.”

“I know,” Fern’s voice was getting soft. “But I can take care of myself, man.”

“I know.” Finn’s voice was somehow softer.

Fern opened his mouth, as if to reply.

Finn hung up.

Fern stared at the phone in his hand.

 

“Who was that?” Bonabelle’s voice seemingly came out of nowhere, and Fern tried not to look too startled.

“Finn.” Fern replied.

“Oh.” She looked down at her notebook. “What’s he say?”

“He was wondering when… when we were going to be done.”

“Well,” she started, dog-earing her book and closing it. “We’re pretty much done now, unless there’s anything else you wanted to do.”

Fern paused. “I can’t think of anything else…”

“Alrighty then,” Bonnie’s voice was pitched a little higher, and there were spots of hot pink on her cheeks. She’d heard the conversation. “ Okay.”

“Di-” Fern stopped for a moment, getting up. “You heard -?”

“I did, yeah.” She scratched her neck.

“Did it sound weird?” He asked. “Like, it didn’t seem weird.”

“I don’t know man,” she moved over to him, turning off the lamp. “There was just something about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> obviously bonnie was asking about romance bc of marcy dont even try man


	4. four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gummed up? Finn has a remedy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoof. that ending, amirite? well, even tho AT is over, this fic isnt.  
> and uhh. idk. this took a different turn than i originally wanted it to, but i think i like where it's going

_ “I don’t know man, there was just something about it.” _

What did she mean?

Fern had mulled over the phrase, tasting it like aged wine. ‘Something’. Like good something, or bad something, he wasn’t sure. Why had their conversation been off in the first place? 

Groaning, Fern lulled his head back, letting it rest on his shoulders. The sun beat down above him, almost sizzling his grassy skin. It must have been a bad something, right? Glob, it was probably something Fern said. He’d been to harsh on Finn. He was just being nice, trying to help Fern feel invited, feel wanted. And some big idiot (him) had to go and funk it all up.

“Fern!” Finn crawled across the leaves of the roof, getting his balance slowly and pushing up, walking the rest of the way. He stood above Fern, casting a shadow on his face. They didn’t meet eyes. “You’ve been up here a while buddy. You okay?” Looking Fern over, he considered for a moment and sat down.

“I don’t know…” It was more of a mumble than anything. “I just feel.... I don’t know how to describe it.” That was a lie. Fern knew exactly what was up. He felt bad. His chest felt damp and swampy and ached for something more than a pep talk, more than a squoze. He just didn’t know that that  _ more  _ was.

“You feelin’ gummed up?” Finn asked. Fern nodded. That was a way to describe it, he supposed. “Anything I can do to help?”

And for a moment, impulses flashed in Fern’s mind, none of them related;  _ flesh, grab, slice, kill, clutch, kiss, punch, hold, breathe, scream, die, flesh, slice- _ _   
_ Suddenly, scenarios were flitting by. One really seemed to stick.   
__ Finn, Fern, on the roof. Same as now. Standing. It’s hot, and they’re shoving at each other. Finn is sweating, his face red with exertion. They tumble, almost fall. Anger hangs sticky and humid in the air. Teeth are bared, punches thrown, the scene painted red. Blood flows. The scene shifts, and suddenly they’re embraced. Not angrily, but with a fervor associated with raw passion.

“I don’t know.” Fern said, his words caught on a sigh. “I need- I just need someone.” his hand gesticulating vaguely. He wasn’t really sure what he meant.

“Oh.” Finn replied, as if he knew exactly what Fern was walking about. “Sure. I get it.” He scooted closer, until their shoulders were pressing. Fern immediately sat straighter, watching as Finn made small moves closer; his body moving slowly until he was almost straddling Fern. It was certainly awkward, but Finn moved with a certainty, even while seeming to maintain a red face and apologetic expression.

“Y’know,” He began, his fingers working to pull off his hat and bag, placing them aside. “I always thought this would be convenient.” He paused. “Weird, maybe, but… convenient.” He shifted, on his knees, legs bracketing Fern’s. Slowly, his hand came up, until it was cupping Fern’s face. And then that hand, that hand currently touching the face which was connected to the body that was  _ very  _ close to him was pulling his own face forward closer and closer until  _ oh,  _ Fern remembered this. This was kissing.

It was strange, to know what his own lips felt like now. To be able to feel how he kissed, and hear the small noises he didn’t know he made. But it was also comforting, to be held by someone. To feel warmth against his grass blades, to feel breath between kisses, to feel hands, moving around his neck and down his shirt and under his cap and into his hair. To be pulled at, to be touched, to be breathed on and into and feel himself blend with another person.

Except…. Finn wasn’t another person.

Finn was him. He was Finn.

Suddenly, everything rushed up. This was Finn. This was him. The hands touching him were his, the mouth over his was his own, the noises, the touches, the warmth were all  _ his.  _ He should be there, in that body. It was like he was watching this as someone else, away from the situation, from feeling it, and seeing something so incredibly wrong and un-supposed to be that it made his stomach churn.

And yet, he waited.

He waited until Finn pulled away, until he leaned back, gasping for breath, his hands planted behind him. He watched, as Finn wiped at his reddened lips, as he brushed his hair back and groped for his hat. He said nothing as Finn laughed, nervously.

“Uh.” He started, getting up slowly. “Thanks. I guess.” He paused. “I mean, that made you feel better, right?” He looked so not like Finn, and Fern felt disgusted.

“Yeah.” He lied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter wasn't as long!! it was just how long it needed to be, i suppose

**Author's Note:**

> as always blease leave a comment if you liked it, i love every comment i get !!


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